A Different Prison
by filmFreak1
Summary: The Watchers Council has set up an experimental prison unit for witches, demons, and slayers. This fic chronicles daily life in the unit as it happens; contains mature subjects. Somewhat inspired by the HBO series Oz.
1. Intro

**Title:** A Different Prison

**Author: **filmFreak1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Buffyverse; if I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfics, now would I?

**Rated:** T (mature themes involving prison life)

**Summary: **The Watchers Council has set up an experimental prison unit for crimes that fall outside human law. This fic chronicles daily life in the unit as it happens. Inspired by the HBO series "Oz".

**Feedback: **would be very highly appreciated, as always.

Wakeup call is at 7 a.m. It starts when all the lights turn on at once and all the glass cell doors automatically slide open, followed by everyone stepping out of their cells so that the COs can do a head count to make sure no one got out during the night. I'm not sure why they bother; with all the mystic barriers surrounding this place, as well as the additional one that is turned on for each individual cell during lights out, it's not like anyone would be able to teleport themselves out of here, anyways.

As he steps out of the cell next to me, my cellmate Ranku, a bald, yellow-skinned demon with large ears and two horns protruding from his forehead, says good morning. I return the greeting, only to be silenced by a CO screaming, "No talking!" Ranku shrugs apologetically and rolls his eyes; I smile at this. Ranku is doing two to ten years for embezzlement.

The main unit where I and most of the prisoners reside is composed of two levels that form almost a full circle. I look out onto the main floor from my position on the second level. At the end of the near-circle is the area where the offices of the staff are. If you've ever watched that HBO series "Oz," the Emerald City unit in that show bears a surprisingly strong resemblance to ours; I wonder if any of the series' set designers did time here?

--

I suppose I should introduce myself before I go too much further. My name is Raymond Callison; I am a warlock who has served six years so far. I was sentenced to forty with the possibility of parole in fifteen for, as my file will say, "Four Counts of Homicide While Under the Influence of Dark Magic."

I am not the kind of person to try to dodge accountability, so I'll just come right out and say it: I'm guilty as hell. It started when I got into magic. I've heard of people being born as naturally-talented warlocks or witches; I was not one of those people. I didn't actually begin getting into it until I was in my mid teens, but oh, how good I turned out to be at it. To make a long story short, I eventually became addicted to it.

Then one night, a cousin of mine was murdered by two people. In a blind fit of rage, after obtaining a ton of books of dark magic, I absorbed as much of it as possible directly into my body, and got revenge in a brutal fashion that I will not describe right now. Problem was, I couldn't stop myself, and ended up killing two police officers as well before finally being subdued by a group of witches sent by the Watchers.

By the time I was convicted, it was known that I could never cure my addiction; I had been using magic so long that it was now a part of me. One of the requirements placed on me when I was sentenced was that I would have to attend sessions with the prison's on-staff witch in order to learn how to control my magic and use it in a positive way. I would say that the sessions were quite successful; I have not gone dark since I came here, even after the witch told me three years ago that I no longer had to come to the sessions.

--

After the head count is complete, I go back into my cell and change into my white kitchen uniform. Everyone here in the main unit has a job of some sort to do; some work as janitors, some work in the mailroom, a few of the luckier ones get to work in the offices of the prison staff. Ranku works in the factory making clothes. I work in the kitchen. Everyday I help cook the food in the cafeteria where the inmates from the main unit eat, and I also have a daily route where I push the food cart around and deliver the trays to the other units of the prison.

The first stop on my route is the Hole. This unit is used as temporary punishment for inmates who violate the rules. I did a couple weeks time here myself early on in my sentence. Each cell in the Hole is a large, empty, cold room with nothing in it but a bucket, a water hose attached to a faucet, a drain, and a bench. As if that isn't bad enough, inmates' clothes are taken from them before they are thrown in the hole, forcing them to sleep naked on the hard, cold floor. There are currently three inmates doing time in the Hole. I leave three trays behind for the guard there to deliver, and then move onto my next stop.

My next stop is Unit H. It is not as nice and clean as the main unit, but the rules tend to be more relaxed. This is the unit where human inmates with little or no active powers are kept, since they would otherwise be subject to persecution from inmates in my unit. There are only four inmates in this unit at the moment. Three of them, who are busy playing poker, ask me to set their trays in their cells for them. The fourth has been reading a book; he sets it down and walks over to pick up his tray. I've talked with him on occasion; he calls himself Jim. He is serving seven to ten years for arson, a human crime for which he was convicted in human courts. Normally, this would mean that he would do his time in the human prison system, but the Prison Board decided to have him transferred here to serve out his sentence when it was learned that he was a werewolf. He spends three nights in the Hole every month; anyone who knows anything about werewolves (besides what those old movies with Lon Chaney taught them, that is) can probably guess which three.

--

You are no doubt wondering how this prison was set up. From what I've gathered, it is part of an ongoing experiment set up by the Watchers Council. About half a century ago, they decided to set up a justice system for crimes of the supernatural sort that take place within the borders of the region where the prison now sits. Slayers do not have the amount of jurisdiction in the region that they have everywhere else in the world.

The system is intended only to punish and protect those who are believed to be capable of being good; capable of possessing a conscience, if you will. Hence, as vampires are inherently evil, they cannot be tried in this justice system, but neither are they protected by it, either. Likewise, a person will not have to face justice for slaying a vampire within the region, but will if they slay, say, a Lister demon.

In addition to punishing those who commit crimes outside human law, it also punishes those who commit human crimes but cannot be tried by the human system due to being a demon, witch, or whatnot, as the human form of law enforcement often has trouble apprehending such individuals.

Other than those who live within the region, not too many folks know about this place, even among the Watchers. Many of the watchers who did know about it were killed in the explosion at the Council five years ago.

As mentioned previously, this prison is more or less an experiment to see if a justice system could be made to work for the supernatural world. The ones who set it up wanted to see if, through punishment and rehabilitation, such a system could be more effective at reducing violence than the old system, which they saw as being no better than the days of the Wild West. I'm not sure whether the experiment has been successful or not; no such prisons have been set up in other regions, but then again, this one is still allowed to run as before, with full funding and everything. Maybe it's still too early in the experiment to be able to tell.

--

My final stop is Solitary Confinement. The prisoners seen as being the most dangerous are kept here. Mystic barriers surround the cells at all hours of the day, and the prisoners are only allowed out a few times a week for brief periods of time and under heavy guard in order to get exercise, shower, and wash their clothes. Each cell is surrounded by steel walls and a steel door (not even the strongest inmate would be able to punch his way through it); each contains a bed, a sink, a mirror, a toilet, and pretty much nothing else.

I always hate this part of the route. The guard there is paranoid, and refuses to hand the trays directly through the slots in the cell doors, for fear of his hand being grabbed in the process; he always makes me do it instead. I suppose I could just use magic to float the trays through the slots, but ever since my sessions, I'm rather cautious about using magic for such a mundane task. I always just slip the trays through by hand. They have tried to grab my hand a few times in the past, but after having a few sparks of electricity through their body (being a warlock certainly proves itself handy at times), they don't do it near as much nowadays.

After my shift ends, I head back to the main unit. Most of the inmates are on the main floor now, either sitting at the tables talking and playing cards or sitting in front of the large television that sits on the floor. If one looks close enough, they can see the different gangs that have been formed here in the prison.

The first is the Demons. They have a hateful attitude toward humans, and hence are the primary reason that the humans in Unit H are segregated from the rest of the prison population. Their leader is D'Zandus, a red-eyed demon whose face is blue with black stripes. His creepy smile reveals razor-sharp teeth. He is serving life without parole for the first degree murder of several humans, including two slayers.

The second gang is the Hybrids. They are generally composed of people who are part-demon and part-human. Some are more demon than human, some less. Most of them appear human, but don't let that fool you; they are often just as powerful as or even more so than the members of the Demon gang. While they understandably don't possess as much hatred toward demons or humans in general as other gangs, they still desire power and control. Their leader is Robert Callison, my half-brother. While we share the same mother, his father was a Brachen demon; he usually wears his human form except when in fighting mode. He is serving fourteen to twenty-three for multiple counts of aggravated assault; he came here two years after I did.

The third gang is the Witches. Most of them are women (hence the name), but they have some warlocks as well. While the Demons and Hybrids work in the magic trade a bit, the Witches have the majority of control over it. Even though such items are not allowed here, the Witches know how to get things such as books of magic, amulets, orbs, and many other items into the prison, whether by smuggling through the mail or bribing guards. The magic trade is their biggest source of income. The Witches are run by a husband-and-wife team, Joseph and Shelley Mendez. This Bonnie-and-Clyde couple is doing life without parole together for several counts of armed robbery, second degree murder, and abuse of dark magic.

The fourth gang did not come to exist here until after I had already been here for over a year. They are the only all-female gang in the prison. There used to be only one of their kind in the whole world, but for some reason, they started showing up everywhere about five years ago. Despite being relatively new, however, the Slayers are not to be underestimated. They believe that their superior abilities give them the right to dominate everyone, human or demon, and they are not afraid to abuse those abilities. Their leader is Ashley Patrickson, a sadistic blonde serving life with the possibility of parole in twenty for the torture and murder of a human woman, her demon husband, and their half-breed children. Apparently, she really has it in for interspecies couples. Many believe she would have easily gotten life without parole if the whole family had been human; this belief has only fueled the bitter rivalry between the Slayers and their worst enemy, the Demons. The Slayers tend to be most closely allied with the Witches, since most of the members of the latter group are human as well. While the Hybrids hate both the Slayer and the Demon gangs, they have been known to ally with both of them at different times, depending on which happens to be the current object of their wrath.

The fifth gang is known as the White Hats. They mostly consist of slayers and witches, but there are a couple of demons in there as well. This gang believes in fighting for the side of good. Their main goals include helping to maintain peace between the other gangs in the prison, and protecting other inmates when the need arises. Sadly, they can only do so much. Their leader is Alejandro Estevez, a werewolf. Unlike Jim in Unit H, Alejandro can change into his werewolf form at will, and still control himself while in this form. He is doing ten to twenty for destruction of private property.

The last gang is not so much a gang as it is just the rest of the inmates in the main unit. The prison staff members refer to them simply as the Others. Ranku and I are considered to be part of this group. Some of us hang out together, some of us are loners. Some of us are Others because we don't really fit into any of the other gangs. Most of us just want to live out our days without fear of being murdered. We don't really have a leader and we have no allies or enemies, either, although some of us silently support the White Hats, since they have been known to give a few of us protection.

Heading back to my cell, I change out of my kitchen uniform and into my workout clothes. I head to the gym, where I meet up with Marla, a Slayer who is also one of the Others. She is thin and athletic, with dark hair that comes down to her neck and a smile that is contagious. She is in her early thirties and possesses a rather androgynous appearance, mostly because of her choice of wardrobe; more than one person has mistaken her for a young boy, although she is certainly not unattractive to the eye of the straight male, either. She is doing three to ten for breaking and entering.

Marla and I play basketball in the gym for about an hour; we have jokingly agreed in the past that she will not use her slayer strength if I will not use my magic while playing. We play a few times every week. She's a fun person to be around, and my best friend, except maybe for Ranku. She was lucky in her job assignment; having worked as a secretary previously, she was selected to work as the prison psychiatrist's assistant.

After we are done playing, I go back to my cell, take off my clothes, and wrap a towel around my waist, before heading off to the shower room. When I get there, Marla is already there, standing naked under one of the numerous showerheads. In embarrassment, I apologize and tell her I'll come back and shower later.

"Don't be such a baby," she says, grinning. "It's not like you've got anything I want." Trying my hardest not to look at her (trust me, once you see Marla without clothes, you can definitely tell she's a woman), I place my towel on the bench and turn the handle. Using my hand to gauge how hot the water is, I eventually get it to a desirable temperature and step beneath the flow.

You probably find it rather strange that men and women share the same facilities in this prison. Gender isn't really as big an issue here as it is in the human world. Women are often just as capable of defending themselves as men are. Also, just because many of the inmates here are evil does not mean that they are sexist (ironically, the biggest source of sexism is probably the Slayer gang; some of them see men as nothing other than an object from which they can get a decent fuck). The line is drawn at the cell level, though; males cannot share cells with females unless approved by the warden. Currently, Joseph and Shelley Mendez (the Witch leaders) are the only couple in this arrangement, since they are married. Even they, however, are still only allowed to have sex in the conjugal rooms, although I'm sure they have found ways to violate this rule.

After we finish showering, Marla and I go to the cafeteria to grab lunch (a different shift works the cafeteria at lunchtime). Shortly after we get our trays and sit down, Ranku joins us.

"Did you see today's new inmate?" He points to the other side of the cafeteria, where we see a small, thin redhead sitting alone; she looks as though a light breeze would knock her over. "Slayer named Mallory. Got convicted after she was driving home drunk and hit a demon child. Poor kid never knew what hit him."

"God, that sucks," I say. "Bad luck on both their parts."

"Oh, shit," says Marla. "Look who's walking toward her." We look, and see that it's Ashley Patrickson and her Slayer gang. They all take seats next to Mallory, who looks up at the blonde slayer.

"And now we have another case of same story, different victim," says Ranku. "Patrickson's going to woo her with all her charm and friendly disposition, and then convince her to move into her cell. Poor girl doesn't know what she's in for with the dyke. No offense, Marla."

"None taken," replies Marla. "But you're wrong."

"You're not a lesbian?" asks Ranku in misunderstanding.

"No, I am, but Patrickson isn't; I've seen her treat male inmates similarly. She's a sexual predator, one who likes to prey on those weaker than her."

"Don't they attribute that kind of behavior to the whole 'hungry and horny' thing?" I ask.

"That's a bullshit excuse, Ray. Do you see me going around sexually assaulting people? Patrickson and her gang are able to control themselves, even when 'hungry and horny'; they just choose not to." Marla herself has had problems with the Slayers sexually threatening her, thanks in part to her boyish appearance and her sexual orientation. Fortunately, the threats ceased after she managed to make a few friends among the White Hats.

We spend the rest of the day hanging out together in the main unit, watching television and playing cards. Finally, all the inmates go back to their cells shortly before 6 p.m., as required by the prison's rules.

The cell that Ranku and I share contains, like every other cell in the unit, a bunk bed, a toilet, a sink, and a mirror. We spend the next four hours reading books that we checked out from the prison library. Then at 10 p.m., the lights go out.

I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of Ranku's rather loud snoring above me. Getting up, I wash my face in the sink and look in the mirror. Then I walk up to the glass door and look out on the prison. I can see that a few other inmates are still up as well. Across the way from me, I see Mallory (the new inmate that Ranku told me about before). She is looking at me with a pleading expression; my guess is she has now discovered Ashley Patrickson's true nature. As I watch, an arm appears from behind her and pulls her back into the shadows.

I look around the place some more, reminding myself that I will be here for at least nine more years. Then I turn and go back to bed.

--

_Author's Note: This fic popped into my head one day as I was watching the series that inspired it. As you may be able to tell, it's a very different kind of fic. There is no big story arc or big bad villain, it is pretty much just life as it happens in the dark world that exists in the unit. It is also kind of intended to serve as a bit of a satire to highlight the flaws that exist in the U.S. prison system. I love the irony of one of the Slayers being perhaps the most evil inmate in the unit._

_Hopefully, I'll be able to get another chapter out soon. I'm thinking that I may bring one or two Buffyverse characters into it._

_Please, please leave feedback. I accept criticism, but try to be constructive. I would really like to know what you think._


	2. Helping Mallory

Wakeup call happens again at 7 a.m.; I have gone through it every morning since I came here over a year ago. After quickly getting dressed (I decide today to wear my dark gray cargo pants and a white sleeveless top), I step out of my cell. Looking over the balcony, I see that the guards have started taking roll for the bottom level of the main unit.

--

I know Raymond Callison told you a little about me before, but I'll go ahead and introduce myself formally. My name is Marla Goetz; that's pronounced "gates" and not "goats," mind you. I grew up in a conservative Christian family; we attended a United Pentecostal church. Those are the type that speak in tongues and require women to wear long skirts and don't let them wear make-up or cut their hair; as you may guess, I was never quite comfortable in that church. Thankfully, I was able to make friends outside of my church and family, since I attended public school. My parents were too poor to send me to a private Christian school and too busy to home school me.

About the time I turned fifteen, I noticed that I was having feelings of desire for other girls in church and school; I figured it was a temptation that the devil had planted in my mind to sway me from the righteous path. For a long time, I prayed intensely that God would take the feelings away, but He never did. Finally, I accepted that the feelings were natural and not sent by Lucifer himself. One night, my parents caught me fooling around in bed with a girl from my high school. My father said that my behavior was the result of being exposed to the "godless, liberal agenda" (his words exactly) that every public school teacher supposedly possessed. My parents tried to send me to a camp for that specialized in "rehabilitating" homosexuals. Instead of going, I opted for the path of sin and ran away from home.

After leaving my hometown, I cut my hair. I bought clothing more suited to my comfort and wore never again to wear a dress. I came to this region and got a job in the city as a receptionist, which I turned out to be quite good at. I had never felt freer in my life. Unfortunately, with freedom came loneliness.

Then, about five years ago, some crazy shit started happening. I started having some weird and scary dreams about other women in other times and other places fighting monsters from other worlds.

I also noticed that I had inexplicably become a lot physically stronger than before. One time, a group of rednecks drove by me in a large pickup truck. The one sitting in the truck bed and the one sitting in the passenger's seat both screamed "DYKE!" and threw empty beer bottles at me. In anger, I picked up a large rock nearby and heaved it at them as they sped away. I was just as shocked as they were when the rock sailed that long distance in a really short period of time and crashed through the back window of the pickup. This must have really shook up the driver, because he steered the pickup straight into a telephone pole, causing the person in the truck bed to be catapulted out due to the truck's sudden deceleration. All three of them were charged with misdemeanors, including reckless driving, having open alcoholic beverages in the vehicle, having a person illegally riding in the truck bed, and (as it turned out) illegal possession of firearms. They initially wanted to pin the accident on me, but dropped it after I reminded them that I could press assault charges for throwing beer bottles at me. They probably also realized that no one would believe that a skinny girl like me managed to throw a heavy rock such a long distance.

Eventually, a group of four girls who had read about the incident in the news came calling for me. After meeting them, it was then that I first learned about the concept of slayers and the world where demons and vampires existed. The girls, who were slayers themselves, were part of a "slayer squad" that worked for Buffy Summers, a slayer who at one point, according to them, had been the only slayer in the entire world before girls everywhere started becoming slayers. While I was hesitant at first, I eventually started going patrolling with the girls on a regular basis. They taught me how to train, how to fight, how to slay. I was no longer lonely; I was finally among friends.

Then came that fateful day over a year ago when they told me about wanting to pull a heist. They needed a fifth person. Their plan involved breaking into the household of a wealthy demon couple and stealing their valuables. Initially, I wanted nothing to do with this heist; flawed as my parents were, they had certainly raised me well when it came to telling right from wrong. The girls informed me that the valuables were insured and that the money from selling them was necessary to fund the activities of the slayers and the Watchers Council; overall, a victimless crime. They also reminded me that the household's residents were demons. Finally, I said okay, and they told me how everything was going to be done.

Unfortunately, things do not often go exactly as planned. I don't entirely remember what went wrong, but I do remember that I volunteered to serve as a diversion so that the others could get away; to this day, I don't know why I did that. When the police apprehended me, they knew that I could not have possibly been the only person involved in the robbery, especially since I could not produce most of the valuables that had been taken. As it turned out, there had been numerous such robberies in this area, and they were certain that for the most part, it was the same group of people; they were also certain that I was not normally one of that group. They offered to let me walk in exchange for the names of the others who I had been with. I said no; again, I'm not sure why I did that. I pleaded guilty and was sentenced to ten years with the possibility of parole in three.

I was surprised that the police in this area seemed to know about witches, slayers, and demons. I eventually learned that these were not typical police and that this region had its own justice system for supernatural beings and crimes. I wondered why the four girls hadn't told me this, but now I'm pretty certain they didn't know. After all, the whole project was pretty much a secret to everyone from outside the region, and then some.

After I came to this prison, I was surprised to learn that not all demons were bad; some were benevolent, even. Some of the inmates knew about the demon couple whose house I had broken into; apparently they were philanthropists, a fact that made me feel even shittier than I already did.

I suppose you might wonder why I didn't officially join the White Hats. To be honest, I was rather disgusted with the last group of "good guys" that I had worked with. Speaking of which, those four girls have come to visit me a couple of times since I came here. They have promised that I will be rewarded well once I get out; personally, I don't really want much to do with them anymore. Still, I act friendly toward them, especially since they are my main source of income right now. They send payments to me, which is helpful, because money is quite necessary in this place.

--

When roll call finally finishes, I go eat breakfast. Afterward, I go back to my cell to change into my workout clothes. I meet Raymond in the gym. While we usually play basketball, we decide to just work out today. We spot each other while lifting weights (I can lift several times the amount he can), and run together on the treadmills. After an hour or two of this, I go back to the main unit and take a shower.

As I finish showering and turn the water off, I see Ashley Patrickson walking into the shower room, accompanied by Mallory, the new inmate. They both have towels wrapped around their torsos. After they take the towels off and set them on a bench, Ashley gives Mallory a rather hard slap on the rear (eliciting a brief squeal of pain from the latter) and tells her to go to the corner showerhead and turn on the water; she will join her in a moment.

Mallory is an even sadder sight to look at than when she first came here a week ago; she has bruises on different parts of her body. She is thin and pale, albeit quite pretty. She is also obviously scared; on further inspection, I see that she can't possibly be even twenty years old.

"Marla! Fancy runnin' in to you here," says Ashley in her Southern accent. "Oh, don't worry, I ain't after you. Why would I need you when I got li'l Red here?" The blonde slayer gestures in Mallory's direction.

Walking over to Mallory, Ashley grabs the redhead by the arm and jerks her to herself. The blonde begins running her hands over the body of the small girl, whose eyes widen in terror. "You like redheaded pussy, dyke?" she asks me in a mocking tone. "As you can tell, this one's natural."

I can't stand to watch anymore. As I grab my towel and wrap it around myself, Ashley says, "You can have her, you know. For an hour, I mean. For a few hundred bucks, I'll let you do whatever you want to her for an hour."

"Go fuck yourself, Ashley," I say coldly as I walk out of the shower room.

After eating lunch with Raymond and Ranku, I change clothes and go to the office of Dr. Marcus, the prison psychiatrist. As Ray told you before, I am her assistant. I help her stay organized, schedule other inmates' appointments with her, and so on. She's a wonderful lady. She treats me well, and approaches even the worst offenders with no judgments or prejudices. I usually work in her office for a few hours or so around midday and the early afternoon, but she's fairly flexible. She notices something is not right today and asks me what's wrong; I deny that anything is wrong, of course.

Finally, I ask if I can leave early today, and she says yes. I decide to pay a visit to a friend of mine.

As I approach this friend's cell, a black slayer stops me; she is one of his bodyguards. "Hold it right there. Is he expecting you?"

"_Esta bien. Marla es una amiga_," says a voice from within the cell. The black slayer lets me past. I slide the cell door open and enter.

"_Que pasa_, Marla? What can I do for you today?" asks Alejandro Estevez, the White Hat leader. He is a handsome Ecuadorian man with dark brown hair and a light brown complexion. He wears a black leather jacket and dark blue jeans, and sports a beard.

I pull a few hundred dollar bills out of my back pocket and hand them to him. "I need you to protect someone."

"_Quien es?_" he asks without hesitation.

"That new slayer Mallory, the one who came here just a week ago."

"The one who's sharing a cell with Ashley Patrickson?"

"Yes, her."

He hands the money back to me and says sadly, "_Lo siento_, Marla, I can't help her."

"Why not? It's what you guys do, isn't it? Help the helpless?" I ask him angrily.

"Have you even thought this through, Marla? You're forgetting the fact that Mallory's sharing a cell with the leader of the Slayers, which essentially makes her the Slayers' property. If my amigos tried to protect her, we would be risking an all-out war with the Slayers, not to mention that the consequences for Mallory would be far worse than what she's probably going through now!"

After a moment of silence, I nod slowly. "I guess I hadn't thought about that."

Alejandro looks away, sighs, looks at me again. "I'll tell you what: see if you can get Mallory transferred to another cell, one where her cellmate is not one of the Slayer gang. Then come back and talk to me again." I nod and thank him, then leave to go see someone else who may be able to help me.

When I approach the warden's office, a CO stops me and asks my name and business. After giving my name, I tell him I wish to speak with the warden about a transfer.

The CO enters the warden's office, speaks with him briefly, then comes out again and gestures for me to go in. I sit down in front of the warden, who tells the CO to step out and shut the door. Warden Griffin is a slim, middle-aged man, about forty or fifty, who wears dark suits and gold-rimmed glasses. His hair is salt-and-pepper. The bookshelves in his office contain volumes about vampires, zombies, witches, werewolves, and the like, indicating his Watcher heritage. From what I've heard, Griffin inherited his position from his father, who was the prison's first warden.

"I'm rather surprised, Marla," says Griffin. "I would have thought that you enjoyed having a cell to yourself." My last cellmate was paroled a few weeks ago.

"I don't want to transfer, Warden, I want someone else to be transferred."

Griffin leans back in his chair. "Really? Who?"

"That new slayer inmate, Mallory."

Griffin thinks to himself, trying to remember. "Mallory, Mallory…Is she the one who's sharing a cell with Patrickson?"

"Yes, sir. I don't think she is cut out for this unit, and I was wondering if you could transfer her to Unit H."

Griffin shakes his head no. "I can't do that. The other inmates in Unit H would be really nervous about having a slayer there, not to mention I'd have to explain it to the board."

I sigh. "Can you at least transfer her out of that cell?"

"She was the one who requested to be put there in the first place."

"Yeah, well, I think it'd be a good guess that she didn't know who Patrickson really was at the time. That bitch can be very manipulative when one doesn't know her."

Griffin leans forward on his desk. "Is there something about Patrickson's behavior that you can tell me? That would help in transferring Mallory."

"You know I can't go there, Warden. Snitching is a way of giving myself a de facto death sentence."

Griffin takes his glasses and begins cleaning them. "Then I don't know if I can help you; who in their right mind from outside the Slayer group is going to want to trade places with her? Of course, you do have a vacancy in your cell…"

A moment of silence follows as the warden puts his glasses back on. Finally, I sigh. "Alright. You can put her with me."

"Very well," replies Griffin. "I'll fill out the paperwork, and it should be done by the end of the day. Before you go, though, let me remind you that I do not grant favors like this all that often, and you should not expect many from me in the future. I am only doing this because you have been a model prisoner since you came here and Dr. Marcus has nothing but the utmost praise for the work you do for her. If I were you, I would keep quiet about this conversation." I nod and leave.

Later, at 6 p.m., all the prisoners are back in their cells, which have all been locked down as per the daily routine. I am disappointed; did Griffin forget about the transfer?

A little over two hours later, I hear someone coming up the stairs from the bottom level. I look out of my cell and see that it's two COs. I watch in anticipation as they walk around the circular balcony until they come to Ashley and Mallory's cell. One shouts to the person manning the guard station (which is positioned about halfway up the steps between the first and second levels) the number of the cell to open. The glass door slides open, and I see one of the COs gesture to Mallory. I squint to get a better look; both Mallory and Ashley appear surprised. Additionally, Mallory looks scared and Ashley looks angry, although she says nothing. Mallory gathers up her blanket, her sheets, and her pillow. As she leaves, the glass door slides shut again. Ashley's eyes follow her to see where she's going.

A moment later, after walking around the circular balcony, they come to my cell and stop. Looking across the way at Ashley, I see that she has a look of realization on her face. She makes a threatening gesture by pointing her right index finger at me and cocking her thumb back, as though she's firing a gun.

The glass door slides open with a hiss, and the frightened Mallory steps into my cell. As far as she knows, her situation may have just gotten worse.

"Enjoy your new cellmate, Marla," snickers one of the COs as the door closes again. The redhead sets her bed items down on the bottom bunk (I sleep on the top one) and looks up at me with large, scared eyes. When I see that look, I want to do nothing more than just give her a hug right then, but I know that would just scare her even more. Instead, I kneel down in front of her so that I'm looking her straight in the eyes.

"You'll be safer here, I promise," I tell her calmly, placing my hands on her shoulders. "Ashley can't hurt you here."

Mallory says nothing. Instead, she leans forward, and to my great surprise, kisses me on the lips and begins groping my breasts.

I gently push her away. "Whoa, there, what are you doing?"

She looks confused. "This isn't what you want?" These are the first words from her lips that I've been in hearing range of since she came here.

"No, of course not, why—" I am interrupted by my own thoughts as I recall what happened this morning in the shower room. "Oh. I get it. No, Mallory, it's not what you think."

"You're not a lesbian?" she asks.

"Yes—I mean, no, I am, but what I meant was, I didn't bring you here to be my plaything. Truth is, Mallory, I know what it's like to be lonely and afraid. And I also know what Ashley Patrickson is like; you're not her first, you know. Even I have had to deal with her a few times; she assumes I would like it just 'cause I'm gay. I had you brought here so I could protect you from her. However, in order me to do that, you'll have to do what I tell you, at least for a while, and a lot of that's going to consist of staying at my side, okay? Now, let's get you settled in here—what's wrong?" Mallory has bowed her head.

Mallory looks up at me and I see that she is crying. "Thank you," she whispers.

I don't know it at the time, but later, after we have become friends, she will tell me that that night was the best she had slept since before the crime that brought her here.

--

_A/N: Whoo, that chapter turned out to be longer than I expected. I guess I just started writing and the words just flowed out._

_Point of clarity: When I capitalize the word "slayer", I am usually referring to the prison's Slayer gang and its members. Otherwise, I am just referring to slayers in general._

_I hate to beg, but if you've been kind enough to read this far, I would really appreciate it if you would just go one more step and leave feedback, no matter how good or bad it is. Special thanks to the two reviewers who have left feedback as of the writing of this chapter; you inspired me to continue the fic._


	3. Mallory's Revenge

I am awakened by a loud buzzing sound, followed by a hiss: our cell door sliding open. Damn. It must be 7. I really don't want to get up right now, so I roll over.

She won't allow me to go back to sleep, of course. A moment or two after rolling over, I feel gentle hands shaking me. "C'mon, Joey, it's time to get up."

"Lemme sleep, Shelley. Just a few more minutes…" Finally, after she persists, I roll back over and sit up.

My wife has taken off her nightshirt and is now putting on a long skirt. I reach out and fondle one of her exposed breasts.

"Joseph! People are watching!" she says, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

"Sorry, hon, I couldn't resist, they were staring right at me."

"C'mon, we're gonna be late for roll call." I nod and hop off the top bunk. I put on my casual clothes; I don't have to go to the medical ward until later. Shelley slips on a top and then brushes her golden hair.

I pinch her playfully on her backside. She displays mock irritation as she spins around. "Why, you!" she exclaims, and then she grabs and kisses me.

About ten seconds later, we are still kissing when we are interrupted by one of the hacks (that's what most inmates here call the COs) banging on our cell door with his baton. "Knock it off, you two!" Giggling, we separate and the hack walks away. We finished getting dressed, and then step out for roll call.

--

As I'm sure you know already, my name is Joseph Mendez. I grew up in San Diego, where my mother was a hairdresser and my alcoholic father worked in a factory, supporting me and my younger brother and sister. I remember often having to hide with them in our room when my father would come home drunk; he usually took out his anger on Mom.

Then one night when I was thirteen years old, it finally happened. My parents were having a violent argument when my mom decided she'd had enough. She picked up a shotgun which was laying out and blew Dad's brains out. When she realized what she'd done, she turned the gun on herself. I remember telling my siblings to stay in the bedroom while I went and looked at the bodies. After crying endlessly for about twenty minutes, I dialed 911.

My brother and sister and I were separated and delivered to different foster homes. I went through several homes, most of them more bad than good. I fell behind in school, and at the age of 18, I was only in tenth grade; I would have been even lower than that, if it weren't for a thing that many refer to as "social promotion".

It was that year that I met Shelley. She was fifteen, but in the same grade. She came from a wealthy family, and was a co-captain of the cheerleading squad. Thankfully, true love does not let social class (or a three year age difference, for that matter) get in its way.

Shelley truly saved me; she gave my life meaning. She was the one who introduced me to magic. She taught me everything she knew about it; I was so fascinated by it that I would sneak out of my foster parents' home late at night to practice it. Eventually, I became just as good at magic as her, maybe better.

One day, she came to me with a surprising request: she wanted me to help her kill her stepfather and mother. I was initially taken aback, and refused, but then she told me about how her stepfather had been coming into her room more nights than not since she was eleven. I asked her why she wanted to kill her mother as well, and she said that "the bitch knows, but hasn't done a fucking thing about it." I finally agreed to help her.

The nice thing about using magic as a murder weapon is that it doesn't leave fingerprints. I was concerned for Shelley's younger stepbrother, wondering if he would have to go through the foster home system like me, but fortunately, he was taken in by Shelley's biological father.

Realizing what a great team we made, Shelley and I ran away together and began our life of crime. We mostly stuck to robbing banks and convenience stores, where our magic came in quite handy. We generally tried to avoid killing people, although sometimes we found it necessary, either to defend ourselves or to get a clerk to open a safe. Once, after a really successful heist, we went to Vegas; we decided to get married while we were there.

Interestingly, one of our biggest sources of income came from magic shops. We would break in at night, steal everything we could, and then sell it off on the black market. Our knowledge of the black market turned out to be quite useful after we came to this prison, since it's pretty much our only source of income now. We had luckily established a few contacts beforehand, and these contacts have been useful for helping smuggle magic items into the prison.

We were captured eight years ago (about seven years after we started out on our life of crime) after a bank robbery in this region went wrong, resulting in the deaths of several customers and bank employees. I was thankful that this prison is the only one of its kind in the region, because it meant Shelley and I could be together.

--

After roll call and breakfast, Shelley and I meet with our gang at one of the tables out on the main floor. The meeting is fairly brief, with the members giving an update on how sales have been. One witch mentions that she has bribed Ashley Patrickson to have her Slayers let certain packages of books and other items through (the Slayers are the ones who work the mailroom). A warlock says that he has bribed a guard to bring him certain items as well.

The meeting is adjourned a short while later. While the others are getting up and leaving, one Warlock stays behind. He is a handsome Japanese man of medium height (which I suppose is rather tall for someone from Japan) with long hair that comes just below his neck. He speaks English very well, although he still sometimes gets his R's and his L's confused.

"What is it, Toshiro?" I ask.

"A friend of mine contacted me recently," he begins. "He told me of this new drug from Japan that's becoming very popular over there among both humans and demons."

"A drug, you say?" asks Shelley.

"Yes, they call it Akira. It contains several magical ingredients. The best part is, it produces a greater high than most human-made drugs, but with much less risk of overdosing. My friend says he can get it to us for very cheap. And before you ask, he's very reliable."

Shelley and I look at each other and nod. Turning back to him, I tell him, "We like the sound of it. Tell your friend to give us some free samples of this Akira. If it goes over well with the inmates, he's got a deal."

Toshiro nods. "Okay, I'll set it up." He gets up and leaves.

Shelley and I go to the shower room. For the most part, we are alone in there today. However, as we are finishing up, Ashley Patrickson walks in. She gives a friendly nod, but Shelley's eyes grow cold.

Most of the inmates and staff here in the unit think that the Slayers and the Witches are all chummy. Truth is, while we may be more or less allies, we are not that close at all. Shelley absolutely hates Patrickson; I guess that's understandable, given Patrickson's nature and the fact that Shelley was a victim of sexual abuse.

Shelley and I both work in the medical ward as orderlies, but at different times. Her shift is in the late morning, and mine is in the early afternoon. After heading back to the cell, she puts on her blue scrubs and leaves.

I hang out with Toshiro and a couple of other warlocks at a table on the main floor. We play cards for a while. As we do so, I notice that the Slayer and Demon gangs keep giving each other dirty looks. Tensions have been higher than usual lately between those two gangs, and for a very good reason.

About a week ago, a member of the Demon gang was murdered. To make things worse, he was the nephew of D'Zandus, the Demons' leader. Everyone knows it was the Slayers who did it, but there's no real proof. My guess is, after the murder, the warden made it real clear to D'Zandus that the hacks would be watching him for a while, so it would not be in his best interest to seek vengeance. The prison is still investigating the murder, but they haven't turned up anything yet.

I focus my attention on Ashley Patrickson and her Slayers, who are approaching Mallory, the small redheaded slayer who came here about a month ago. Hmm…normally she stays next to that androgynous slayer Marla Goetz, and within short range of the White Hats, but she seems alone at the moment.

I consider invoking my powers so as to allow me to hear what Ashley is saying from where I'm sitting. I decide against it, though, since her body language is enough. She clearly wants her property back.

As I watch, she grabs Mallory by the arm in a threatening manner. Mallory responds by tearing her arm out of Ashley's grasp. This only makes Ashley angrier; she shoves Mallory to the ground and pulls out a knife. She'd better hope the hacks don't see her with that.

Mallory is saved by Alejandro Estevez, who appears out of nowhere in his werewolf form and knocks the knife out of Ashley's hand; she turns her back to Mallory to deal with this unexpected interference.

Ashley's second in command, Yunjin Park, runs forward to help her leader, but doesn't get very far, as Alejandro swings his hand (paw?) and tears ribbons of flesh out of her left arm with his claws. She yells and grabs the arm with her right hand to staunch the bleeding, shouting words which I can't understand; my guess is she's cursing in Korean.

At this point, every prisoner in the main unit is watching the fight. Many of them are clapping and cheering, as will usually happen when a fight breaks out.

Ashley suddenly begins to scream, and everyone sees the reason: Mallory has just picked up Ashley's knife and sliced her Achilles tendon with it. The blonde falls backwards to the ground and turns to look up at the redhead, only to find her own knife now being shoved into her ribcage.

A chant begins to run through the crowd. "Mall-o-REE! Mall-o-REE!" Clearly, there is no great love for Ashley Patrickson in this facility. My fellow warlocks and I cannot help but join the chant as well. D'Zandus is laughing with glee, his razor sharp teeth showing.

What follows is not a pretty sight. As the crowd continues to chant, Mallory punches the Slayer leader in the face. Then she pulls the knife out of Ashley and proceeds to stab her several times in the torso, before slashing her multiple times in the face (this makes many of the inmates cringe).

"YOU WANT ME NOW, YOU FUCKING BITCH?! YOU WANT TO FUCK ME NOW, YOU GODDAMN CUNT?!" Mallory screams as she swings the blade. The knife eventually slips from her fingers, but she doesn't bother to pick it back up; instead, she punches the blonde a few times in the face. I'm not certain, but I think I hear bones crack. Blood pools around Ashley's body. The other Slayers are too shocked or too scared to help their leader.

"LOCKDOWN! LOCKDOWN!" The hacks have by this time been alerted to the situation, and one of them is screaming the command over the intercom. As with every lockdown, all the inmates start heading toward their cells. Many are still cheering as they do so.

As I watch from my cell, Mallory finally ends her assault on the now-unconscious Ashley, whose blood has splashed all over Mallory's clothes and face. The redhead sits down on the floor and does not move as several hacks enter the main floor, batons drawn. She does not cry out or resist as they strike her several times with the batons and knock her out before dragging her out of the unit; no doubt she will be going to the Hole for now. A short while later, one of the prison's staff doctors and two orderlies, including Shelley, sprint in and place the unconscious Ashley on a stretcher, hooking her up to an IV before carrying her out of the unit. Two hacks go over to one of the cells, have the door opened, and escort Yunjin Park, no doubt to take her to the medical ward as well to have her arm checked out.

Finally, all the prisoners who were not in the unit at the time due to work and such file in, many of them obviously confused as to why there's a lockdown in effect. They all go to their cells, with the exception of two who work in custodial jobs; they are kept behind to mop up the blood from the main floor area. I look over at Marla in her cell; she has noticed that Mallory is not in the cell with her, and wears a very worried look on her face. She still hasn't heard what happened.

When Shelley gets back to the cell, she is thrilled about Ashley's state, saying that "the bitch got what was long coming to her." She tells me that they managed to stabilize her condition, but the prison's staff witches had to teleport her to a better medical facility; they made sure to take several of the hacks with them for safety's sake.

She gives me the details of Ashley's injuries, saying that she was stabbed twice in the stomach, once in the crotch, and three times in the chest, with one stab wound puncturing one of her lungs and another missing her heart by less than an inch. The cutting of her Achilles tendon did enough damage that she will be limping for a while, if not for life, assuming she survives, of course. Additionally, she has multiple lacerations on her face, and her jaw and nose are broken. One laceration is located right next to her left eye and may leave her permanently blind in that eye, and another caught the right side of her mouth, slicing into that side nearly an inch and a half.

"Overall, that bitch is extremely lucky to be alive, even for a slayer," says Shelley, smirking.

Later that day, the warden announces over the intercom that lockdown will be in effect for the rest of the day (this bit of news elicits many groans), but the inmates should be able to leave their cells at wake-up tomorrow.

Later that night, after we have gone to bed, I am woken up by the sound of the ladder to my bunk creaking. Looking over, I see that Shelley is joining me on the top bunk. After climbing on top of me, she pulls off her nightshirt, revealing that she's naked underneath.

A few minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I see a hack walk by the cell and look in our cell. Realizing that we are in the middle of lovemaking, he pulls his baton and turns his head to the guard station, preparing to tell them to open the cell door. They really have something against fucking outside the conjugal rooms here. I invoke my powers to send him a telepathic message. _C'mon, man, you've got a wife, too. Let it go just this once._ The hack cocks his head as though he's just heard someone speak to him. He looks at me, and I at him, and he understands. Sighing, he puts his baton back on his belt and walks away.

--

_A/N: Thought it would be different for a change to have a not-so-good character narrate a chapter. Anyways, hope you enjoyed it; please leave feedback._


	4. Veangence and Reunion

Ranku is walking to the cafeteria for lunch; he hears they're serving hamburger helper today. The yellow demon is not particularly fond of that dish, but it beats what gets served most days. Raymond and Marla will be joining him later.

As he gets to the cafeteria, he stumbles and accidentally steps on the foot of another inmate. He turns and sees that it's Lisa Tannon, a brunette slayer.

He begins to apologize. "I'm so sorry, Lisa, I didn't mean to—" He is not allowed to finish as she kicks him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.

"No, _now_ you're sorry, demon," she says, spit flying from her lips. As the other inmates watch, she beats him to a pulp; after she finishes, she wipes the yellow blood from her knuckles onto his shirt.

Ranku ends up in the medical ward with numerous cuts and bruises on his face and three broken ribs. Lisa does not get in trouble with the prison authorities, since none of the COs saw the incident.

However, that does not mean she gets away with it, either, as a certain inmate who saw the whole thing soon takes vengeance.

--

The next day, Joseph Mendez is working his afternoon shift as an orderly in the medical ward. As he is placing a food tray on a patient's bed, the doors suddenly burst open, and a doctor and two nurses rush a patient in on a gurney; the patient is screaming in pain.

"We need a tourniquet!" screams the doctor. He points to Joseph. "You! Go to the supply closet and grab as many bandages as you can!" Joseph does as he is told; soon, the doctor manages to stop the profuse bleeding (though applying the tourniquet initially causes the patient to scream even louder due to the increased pain).

The patient finally calms down after being given a sedative. The doctor tells Joseph to change her into a hospital gown and get her into one of the beds. The warlock approaches the gurney, allowing him to see the new patient up close; he is shocked.

It's Lisa Tannon.

Her arm has been cut off just a few inches below the shoulder.

--

Warden Griffin and Dr. Marcus, the prison psychiatrist, are talking in his office.

"Any word on when Ashley Patrickson's coming back?" comments Dr. Marcus, a kindly older woman with graying hair.

"I haven't heard anything yet," replies Griffin. "The redhead did quite a number on her. I'm sure Miss Patrickson will be back soon, but I'm certainly not holding my breath."

"Speaking of Mallory, she's getting out tomorrow, right?" asks Marcus.

"Yes. I couldn't bloody well keep her in the Hole forever, now could I? I could move her to Solitary, of course, but I wouldn't be able to justify it; I don't believe she's really that big a threat to the inmates in general."

"Same here; I'm pretty certain she did that to Patrickson because Patrickson is, well, Patrickson."

"Quite right; she can bring out the worst in anybody."

A moment of silence follows.

Griffin decides to change the subject. "How is your assistant's friend doing?" he asks.

"Ranku? Marla seems happy…says Ranku's injuries weren't as bad as feared and that he'll be out in a few days. Any luck finding out who did it?"

"I'm certain it was Lisa Tannon, but I don't have any proof; of course, if she did do it, she's already suffered brutally for it, so I suppose punishing her now wouldn't be all that fair. I'm still curious who besides Marla Goetz and Raymond Callison cared enough for Ranku to avenge him like that. With their records of model behavior, I can't see either of them doing such a vengeful act as that, even for their best friend."

"Raymond seems more likely, since he's a convicted murderer; also, Marla said he was really disturbed about what happened to Ranku."

"I noticed that, too," replies Griffin, "and what's stranger, he's only gotten worse since what happened to Tannon; missing work and the like. I suppose he could have cut off her arm and had a crisis of conscience about it afterward; but even so, as a warlock, he has never been known to use a weapon besides his magic, and the prison's employed witches found no evidence whatsoever that any magic had been used against Tannon. Of course, there's always the possibility that it was someone else who did it for a reason that had nothing to do with Ranku. Did Marla say that she thought it was Raymond?"

"No, she's pretty sure it wasn't him. She's completely convinced that he's reformed enough that he wouldn't do something like that."

Griffin sighs. "I don't know. If there's one thing I've learned from this job, it's that this place can make anyone capable of doing anything."

--

"Welcome back!" shouts an excited Marla. She and Mallory give each other a hug in their cell.

"Good to be back," says Mallory, who is now even paler than usual. "I gotta say, though, it feels weird wearing clothes again after spending four weeks in the buff. Lights seem bright compared to the bare bulb they had in there, too."

"You'll get used to it again," replies Marla, grinning. "Look on the bright side: you get to sleep on something soft again."

"That's what I've been most looking forward to since I first got put there. Hell, I've been looking forward to just being able to look at a clock and know what time it is," says Mallory, laughing. "By the way, where's my shaving kit?"

"Huh?"

"I think these jeans may be feeling extra weird on me right now because I haven't shaved my legs in a month."

"Oh." Marla crinkles her nose. "Eww." She points to Mallory's no longer vacant bunk. "I put it under there."

"Thanks. So how have things been going in the prison?"

"Same as usual, except that the Slayer gang hasn't been doing too well. I have to say, that stunt you pulled—which I hope you never do again, by the way—did many inmates a favor. It really hurt the Slayers' reputation, and they're rather weak at the moment."

Mallory looks up. "Really? Are they still pissed at me?"

"Probably, but I wouldn't worry about it too much. They're been too busy trying to survive to worry about revenge. It turns out that Asian slayer isn't doing so great as acting leader, so the Slayers aren't very well organized right now. I'm surprised the Demons haven't tried to destroy them yet; maybe they enjoy watching them squirm."

Mallory picks up her shaving kit and gets ready to head to the shower room. "Well, let's hope it stays that way," she says.

"Yeah."

--

"You know, the Slayers here have been really weak since they lost their leader a month ago," says the CO as she escorts the new inmate into the main unit, walking behind her. "Your new cellmate isn't much of a leader, I'm afraid."

The new inmate does not answer; she has so far found the CO to be very irritating to listen to.

"I heard you were in the Army. A lieutenant, right?"

"The Marines," the inmate replies in annoyance. "Not the Army."

"Right—sorry. My point is you could lead them. The Slayers, I mean."

"You know, I've been hearing you talk about the Slayer gang for about the last five minutes straight. Why do you give a shit about them?" asks the inmate.

"Hey, I'm a Slayer, too," replies the CO. "I've gotta support my people, you know?"

"Your people…" The inmate chuckles. She turns her head slightly in the CO's direction. "I don't think they consider themselves to be 'your people' while you're wearing a hack's uniform." This remark obviously does not please the CO, but she restrains herself enough not to react. Instead, she enters into an angry silence, finally giving the inmate a moment's peace.

The new inmate's name is LeToya Udo. She is African-American, though her skin is dark enough such she could pass for a native African; this makes sense, since her father was a Nigerian immigrant. She wears her hair in dreadlocks, which in turn are tied in a ponytail that rests on her back, right between her shoulder blades.

Her most distinct physical feature, however, is her right ear, or lack thereof. A large chunk of it is missing, as though it was ripped off. It uneasily reminds the CO of Evander Holyfield's ear after his infamous match with Mike Tyson.

They finally reach the cell that LeToya will be sharing with Yunjin Park.

Before LeToya steps inside, the still-angry CO tells her, "You think you're so tough, don't you? Well, don't be surprised if you find yourself crying to sleep after a few days in this place."

LeToya turns and looks at her. "I went through Marine basic training, as well as two tours in Iraq. Prison life won't be any more difficult than that."

"You're such a brave little soldier aren't you?" scoffs the CO. "I got news for you: they may do a good job of hiding it, but deep down, everyone here is scared of what will happen to them every day they wake up. Trust me; I think you're going to find you're not half as brave as you think you are."

In response, LeToya points at her mutilated ear. "See this? Roadside bombing during my second tour. Piece of shrapnel from the explosion; tore it clean off. Also made me deaf in that ear, by the way."

The guard opens her mouth, but LeToya continues. "If that shrapnel had been flying only a couple more inches to my left, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you right now."

She leans in close to the CO's face. "Trust me, officer, after that, I'm not afraid of anything, not even dying. Now fuck off." She turns and walks into the cell, leaving the CO standing there, mouth still open.

Yunjin Park looks up from her bunk. She has very tired eyes; the last month has not been kind to her.

"Yunjin?" asks LeToya. The Korean slayer nods wearily. "The hack told me about you. You're the leader of the Slayers, right?"

"I suppose," Yunjin replies with no lack of seriousness. "Truth is, I was much better at being a second-in-command than at being a leader."

"So it's true," replies LeToya; it is not a question. "The Slayers haven't been doing so hot recently." Yunjin only nods again.

LeToya looks out of her cell onto the main floor. Thinking about what the CO was saying before, she smiles.

"Looks like I got my work cut out for me, then."

--

_A/N: I switched to third person for this chapter because there was really no way that I could cover the events in this chapter in this chapter, due to the different characters involved. Anyways, I hope those of you who are keeping up with this story are enjoying it._

_Please, for the love of God, if you've read this far, be nice enough to take that extra step and leave feedback. I need it like an addict needs his fix._


	5. Visiting Hours

"Robbie tells me you're doing well in here."

Raymond nodded. "That's right, Ma. You've don't need to worry about me."

Debbie Callison was a plump, auburn-haired woman in her late fifties. She was a head shorter than her younger son. The two of them were sitting at a table in the visiting room. Elsewhere, other inmates were also conversing quietly with their loved ones. Two COs stood in the room, watching for any suspicious movements. Raymond and his mother talked a little more.

Finally, Debbie asked, "I know both you and Robbie said you couldn't see me at the same time today due to work conflicts, but I can't help but wonder if there's another reason. Is something going on between you and your brother?"

"No, we're fine," Raymond lied, not wanting to worry his mother. He was not successful.

Debbie narrowed her eyes. "You're lying, Ray. After all these years, you think I wouldn't know when you're lying to me?"

Raymond sighed. "It's nothing to be worried about, Ma. Just a brother thing, you know?" It was a half-truth and an understatement, but not an outright lie, so he got away with it this time.

"Well, whatever it is, fix it. He helped raise you after your father left, you know."

"Yes, Ma, I know. I was there, remember?" He stood up. "Look, I gotta go." He leaned forward and kissed Debbie on the cheek. "I'll see you next month, okay?"

The mother stood and hugged her son. "Take care of yourself, Raymie." Raymond had stopped telling her a long time ago that he hated it whenever she called him that.

As Raymond walked down the hallway toward Main Unit, a voice behind him said, "What's the matter with you? Don't want nothing to do with me anymore?"

Raymond stopped in his tracks, and turned his head slightly to his left. "What do you want, Robert?"

"'What do you want'? Is that how you greet your brother nowadays? Jesus, no wonder Ma's all worried about us. You think you're better than me? Huh?"

"Yeah, actually, I do."

The leader of the Hybrid gang laughed. "Wow, you really have changed. I know we haven't talked much in recent years, but you've been colder than usual recently. What brought that on?"

Raymond turned around and looked at his older half-brother. "I know you were the one who cut off Lisa Tannon's arm, Robert. Or ordered it, at least."

"Aah, so that's what this is about. In case you forgot, bro, she beat up that yellow friend of yours. I saw the whole thing."

"I didn't want you to avenge him, and I definitely didn't want you to go hack off an inmate's arm! A female inmate, no less!"

"Hey, I could have killed her, you know, but I knew that would only bother you more."

Raymond waved his arms about. "Oh, well, then I guess that just makes it perfectly alright, then!"

"Just protecting you and what's yours, Ray."

"My friends and I don't need your fucking protection, Robert. We've got protection."

"Who, the White Hats? They'll protect you while they happen to be in the same room with you, sure. But the only true way to protect you is the threat of retribution. I did what I did because I want others to know that if this is what happens as a result of messing with one of my brother's _friends_, they don't want to know what will happen when they mess with my brother."

"I told you, Rob, I don't need you or your protection."

"Well, too bad, because—"

Robert was not allowed to finish as his younger brother suddenly punched him in the face. In response, he shifted into his Brachen demon form; his grey eyes turned red and his tan face became green, with blue spikes appearing from it. He grabbed Raymond by the neck and slammed him into the wall. As Raymond was still being held against the wall by the half-Brachen, his eyes—whites, irises, and all—became black as coal. A latin phrase escaped from his lips.

Robert was forced to let go of Raymond when his sleeve—the one surrounding the arm which had been holding Raymond against the wall--suddenly burst into flames. Shouting in surprise, he tore his jacket off, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it to put out the fire. He shifted back into his human form.

"Pretty good warlock reflexes you've developed there, bro," he remarked, picking up his smoldering jacket.

Raymond ignored the remark. "I really ought to tell the warden the truth about what happened to Lisa. In fact, I think I will!" He immediately turned and started walking swiftly down the hall.

"Fine, go ahead; I won't stop you!" shouted Robert. "But one thing you may want to consider beforehand: once the inmates know you're willing to snitch on your own brother, why shouldn't they think you'd have no problem snitching on them as well?"

Upon hearing this, Raymond stopped, but said nothing. With a sigh, he started walking again, this time at a slower pace. He did not stop at the warden's office as he headed back to Main Unit.

--

Marla waited in the office. She was very nervous today, and for a good reason. A few weeks ago, on the advice of Dr. Marcus, Marla had decided to finally contact her parents and let them know where she was. She had been apprehensive about doing so, especially since she knew it would be hard for them to hear she was in prison, but Dr. Marcus reminded her that they would rather hear that than to have no idea where she was at all. The kind psychiatrist even told her that if Marla's parents decided to visit, she could use the office for visiting them privately; from what Marla had told her, Dr. Marcus knew that their reunion would involve some heated discussion.

Marla didn't want to go through the pain of having to verbally tell her parents her situation, so she sent a letter explaining where she was and how she got there. She left out the part about slayers and demons; she did not want to freak out her parents more than she was already going to. She did mention that the prison housed both males and females, but not to worry: the inmates here were "different" and gender was not as much of an issue. A week later, Dr. Marcus informed her that her mother had called the prison and scheduled a visit.

As Marla remembered these things, the door to the office opened. Looking up, she saw a CO enter the room, followed by a middle-aged woman. The CO left the room, closing the door behind him; Dr. Marcus had previously told him to stand outside during the visit and not to interfere unless it sounded like violence was going to occur.

Marla stood as the woman approached. She looked like an older version of Marla, but with really long hair tied up in a bun. Additionally, she wore a dress that came all the way down to her ankles; clearly, she had not given up her Pentecostal faith.

"Marla?" asked the woman quietly. Marla could tell by her expression that the woman did not immediately recognize her daughter on sight. _Oh, yeah, I forgot: the last time she saw me, my hair and clothes were like hers._

"Mama." As soon as Marla let this one-word response escape her lips, the woman immediately knew it was her.

"Oh, Marla! It really is you! Oh, thank you, Jesus!" Mary Goetz came forward and hugged her daughter tightly.

"I almost didn't recognize you," remarked Mary when the hug separated. "What did you do to your hair? You look almost like a boy. I have to say though, even though cutting it goes against church doctrine, it does look kinda cute on you."

"Thanks, Mama. You ought to consider cutting yours sometime; it's become quite fashionable among modern women, you know, not to mention it's easier to maintain," said Marla, putting on her contagious smile.

"Oh, honey!" Mary smacked Marla playfully in the arm. "I'm can't say I agree with your wardrobe as much, though; are you not even wearing a bra?"

"Mama!" Blushing, Marla crossed her arms over her breasts.

"Sorry, honey, didn't mean to embarrass you; it's just that you really shouldn't be lettin' your girls hang free in a place like this." Marla could have almost sworn she heard the CO snicker outside.

"Don't worry about me, Mama; I'm pretty well taken care of in here," replied Marla as they both sat down.

"Can I ask you something?" asked Mary. "I couldn't help but notice that several of the guards and inmates here are badly disfigured. Was there a chemical spill or something?" Marla knew she was referring to the demons.

"Yeah, that's going to take a while to explain, Mama. Can we save that for a later visit? Maybe when Daddy comes with you?"

"Sure, hon. I was just curious, that's all. Have you made any friends here?"

"Yeah, there's these three who I hang out with during my free time, playing cards and such. Raymond's a cool guy; we play basketball in the gym a few times a week. His cellmate Ranku's not all that intelligent, but he's a really nice person. And then there's my cellmate Mallory."

"What's this Raymond fellow in here for?" asked Mary.

"Umm…well, murder in the second degree while under the influence of magic—I mean, drugs," Marla "corrected" herself, not wanting to puzzle her mother. "But don't worry, he's gone through rehabilitation and all. He doesn't affiliate with any of the gangs. In fact, I think he might just be the only one here who reformed simply for the sake of reforming; he's not even up for parole for another nine years or so."

Mary nodded. "Good people often make bad choices; thankfully, no one is beyond salvation. So, umm, are you seeing this Raymond?"

Marla sighed in exaggerated fashion. "Mother! We're just friends, nothing more."

"Have you been seeing any cute men lately?" asked Mary, smiling.

Marla winced. To an outsider, it would seem an absurd question, given that the only males around her were mostly guards and convicted felons, but there was a reason Mary had asked it, given what had led to Marla running away in the first place. Marla had hoped very much that this subject would not come up, but she had known equally much that it would. Dr. Marcus had told her that while the argument shouldn't come to blows, she should certainly stand up for herself.

Marla took a deep breath. "No, I haven't been seeing any cute men lately. Mainly because I prefer cute women." She was cringing on the inside as her mother's smile vanished and was replaced by disappointment.

"So, you're still a, uh…"

"…lesbian? Yes, I am, Mama."

"Your father was right. We should have never put you in public school," Mary replied, looking away. "All that liberal indoctrination—"

"They didn't indoctrinate me with jack shit!" Marla burst out. "You think with the way kids were in that fucking town that I wanted to be—"

"Watch your mouth, Marla, we didn't raise you in—"

"I'm talking here! You think I found it easy when I found myself attracted to other girls in my class and youth group?"

"Did you ask God for help?" asked Mary.

"I was praying throughout my waking hours for over a year, Mama; God never helped me one bit. I figured then he must have been punishing me for having offended him in some way, so I prayed for forgiveness many times. When that didn't work, I thought maybe I was going about it the wrong way, so I tried other methods. I had a Catholic friend from school take me to his church so I could confess to a priest. I even tried self-flagellation for a short while." Mary's face grew horrified when she heard this detail. "I got to thinking that maybe God hated me for no particular reason at all. I thought about it some more, and decided that that couldn't be it either, because God is supposed to be perfect. Finally, after reading some stuff on scientific studies of homosexuality, I decided that the feelings were natural and that God didn't care that I was gay."

A moment of silence followed before Mary finally replied, "You should have asked your father and me for help."

"Considering that the two of you tried to send me to a rehabilitation camp after catching me going down on Ashley Lewis, do you blame me?"

Another moment of silence.

"No, I don't," Mary replied slowly. "We decided years ago that that was one of the worst decisions we ever made. We're both sorry for not being better parents."

"Don't, Mama."

"Don't what?"

"Don't blame yourself," replied Marla in a more calm voice. "Truth is, you were very good parents. The whole reason I'm here is because I didn't listen to you. And I'm not talking about being gay or not going to the camp, either; it has nothing to do with that. I'm talking about the fact that I tried to convince myself that I was committing my crime for the right reasons, but deep down, I knew there were no right reasons. You taught me well when it came to right and wrong, and I'm here because I didn't adhere to that."

Two more minutes of silence followed.

"So," asked Mary finally, "how much time do you have left?"

Marla looked at her watch. "About two minutes."

"No, I mean...how much time in prison?"

"Oh. With a little luck, less than two years."

"Your father and I will be standing out in front on the day you get out; you know that, right?"

"Yes, Mama, I do."

Mary got up to leave. "Let me ask you one more thing: ever since you ran away, have you tried _not_ being a lesbian?"

"Mama!"

"Sorry, dear." Mary sighed. "Alright."

"Alright, what?" asked Marla.

"Listen, Marla, a lot of people, including many Christians, believe that God is this great bully in the sky who likes to inflict pain and sorrow and throw temptations at them just to see if they can endure and stay true to the faith. But I don't really believe that. While we may be subject to much suffering thanks to the gift of free will, I believe God wants more than anything for His children to be happy."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if being a lesbian is the only way you can ever be happy, then I can't judge you."

Upon seeing Marla's incredulous expression, Mary smiled and added, "And don't worry about your father. He may be stubborn, but he loves you; he'll come around."

Marla stood and hugged her mother, tears filling her eyes. "Thank you, Mama. Thank you."

"Take care, dear." The hug ended, and they both stepped into the hallway, where the CO was waiting. While the CO escorted Mary back to the prison lobby, Marla walked back to Main Unit, feeling the most free she had ever felt since coming here.

--

_A/N: Decided for this chapter to focus a little more on characters and less on story. Hope you enjoyed. I'm currently planning for the next chapter to deal with the return of Ashley Patrickson and her finding out about the Slayers' new leader._

_I really, really need more feedback, guys; it's the only thing that will keep the story going._


	6. Ashley's Return

I'm not sure what species this CO is; all I know is that she's not a regular human. None of the guards here are, which is rather strange, given that the warden is. My guess is that the hack is a slayer, but she could easily be a witch or even part-demon, in which case I would hate her more than I already do.

The hack opens the door. "Welcome back to the Unit, Patrickson," she says. "We've missed you." Her tone of voice says the opposite.

I adjust the elastic band that holds my eye patch in place, and tug my hair out and over the band, so as to cover the part that encircles my hair. The doctors at the hospital where I spent the last several weeks recuperating told me that it was not yet certain whether I would ever get my sight back in my left eye; they recommended that I wear the patch in the meantime. Thanks to the extra healing that comes with being a slayer, the scarring on my face isn't near as bad as I feared it would be. The most visible scar is the one that was left when the docs stitched the right side of my mouth back together; it looks as though my smile has been extended on one side.

I'm mostly glad that I can walk again, even though the docs told me that I will in all likelihood have at least a slight limp in my right leg for the rest of my life. That redheaded bitch did quite a number on me. I have to give her credit: I never saw that coming. Obviously, it doesn't change the fact that I plan to make her pay dearly for it, with a little help from my Slayers. I don't care how long it takes; I'll find a way to get her out of White Hats' sight. She will feel every ounce of pain I felt, and then some.

Many heads turn in my direction as I enter the Main Unit. It is the middle of the day, so most of the inmates are out on the main floor rather than in their cells. Some of the inmates look surprised to see me back, others look angry. The Demon leader D'Zandus, who has been watching the large television that sits out on the main floor, takes off his headset and looks at me…and _smiles_; the light in the facility reflects off his razor-sharp teeth. He clearly wants the chance to have a go at me himself. No surprise there.

I look at one table, and see Mallory and her dyke companion Marla, as well as the warlock and the demon who both hang out with them, all looking at me. Three of them are giving me looks that are as cold as ice; Mallory is the one exception: she is wearing a cruel smile. So she isn't afraid of me anymore, huh? I'll make sure that changes.

At the far end of the floor, the Slayers, _my_ Slayers, all sit together, taking up two tables. I give them a nod, but I can't go over there just yet. The hack escorting me must first show me to my cell.

When I reach the cell, I see an olive-skinned woman lying on the top bunk. I do not recognize her; she must have come to the Unit after I went to the hospital. She is wearing faded jeans, a maroon top with long sleeves, and tennis shoes; her raven hair comes down past her shoulders. She looks up from her book at me and the hack; she does not smile. I wonder what gang she belongs to?

"Adira Khalaf, meet your new cellmate, Ashley Patrickson." After making this introduction, the hack turns and walks away.

As I undo my bedroll and begin getting settled into the bottom bunk, Adira says, "I've heard about you." She speaks with a Middle Eastern accent; I'm not talented enough to discern which country exactly.

"I imagine you probably have," I reply without looking at her.

"I heard about what that redheaded slayer did to you."

"What's your point?" I ask, already starting to get irritated with my new bunkmate.

"I also heard why she did it to you."

At this, I look up at Adira. Her eyes have gone black, and she has formed a ball of electricity in her hand. So she's a witch…is she part of Joseph and Shelley's gang, or is she one of the Others? As I ponder this, I back away slowly.

"My point is this," continues Adira. "I may have had no choice in getting assigned to you as a cellmate, but if you touch me or even look at me, what the redhead did to you won't compare to what I'll do."

I've dealt with this type before, the type who are too big for their britches and think they can threaten me and get away with it. Well, I'll make sure she goes the same way they did. But not now. Instead, I smirk at her and leave the cell; it's time for the reunion with my Slayers.

"Hey, hey, hey! How are my girls doin'?" I shout as I approach the table. They turn and look at me, and I realize immediately that something is wrong. They are not smiling.

"What's the matter? Did somebody kill your pets or something?" They look at each other and then at me, but do not respond.

"Yunjin, what the hell is goin' on?" I demand. "Aren't you glad to see me?"

The Korean slayer steps forward, looks uneasily at me, then gestures toward another slayer. "Ashley, this is LeToya Udo. She has taken over since you left." I look where she is gesturing, and see a young African-looking woman wearing her hair in dreadlocks. She is missing over half of her right ear; it looks as something ripped it off. She steps forward.

"And so I meet the Ashley Patrickson I've been hearing all about," says LeToya, smiling slightly.

"Good to meet you, too…LeToya, was it? Listen, I want you to know how grateful I am toward you for taking care of the fort and all while I've away; I'll make sure you get a decent share of the spoils when we—"

"You misunderstand, Patrickson. I became leader, not acting leader."

I chuckle. "That's hilarious, LeToya. If you think my girls are gonna let you…"

"They already have. They took a vote before you came back, and it was unanimous."

I look over at the Slayers, who give no sign that they disagree with what she is saying. A knot begins forming in my stomach.

"Girls? What's going on here? I'm gone for a couple months and you decide to demote me?!"

"Not to demote you," says LeToya.

"Oh, yeah? Well, gettin' knocked out of the leader's chair sure sounds like a demotion to me!"

LeToya gives a cruel smile. "In this case, it's not a demotion, because the word 'demotion' implies that you are still with the company."

My mouth goes dry, and it feels as though something is pressing on my lungs. "You're…you're kicking me out…of the gang?" I look around at the Slayers, several of whom nod.

"I don't understand, why would you…?" Something occurs to me. I look behind me at the tables where the Demons are now sitting. D'Zandus and his crew are all grinning at me. A cold wave of realization washes over me.

I turn back to LeToya and narrow my eyes at her. "You bitch. You sold me out, didn't you?" I look at the others. "You all sold me out, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?!"

"The gang has become very weak since you left; D'Zandus and his goons were been circling us like vultures, all thanks to you murdering his nephew, or so I've heard." replies LeToya.

"It was rather difficult to regain our honor when they were watching our every move," says Yunjin, continuing the story for LeToya. "When it came to D'Zandus' nephew, we figured it was really more you they were after than the gang as a whole. So that's why we let LeToya take over and make a deal with them: they lay off of us, and in return, we cut you loose. Face it, Ashley, you brought this on yourself. I warned you time and time again that you can only abuse so many dogs before one of them decides to turn around and bite you, and that one happened to be Mallory. Only it wasn't just you who got bit, it was all of us."

I can feel my heart rate increasing rapidly. I look at LeToya, then Yunjin, then the rest of the Slayers. "You're all traitors, you know that? Traitorous bitches! I will NOT be your sacrificial lamb! You'll all pay for this!" I turn and limp away as fast as I can, heading back to my cell to figure out what to do next.

As I reach the top of the stairs and step onto the second level, I am greeted by a reddish-brown demon. At over seven feet and 300 pounds, Zolanok is the largest inmate in Main Unit. He is doing fifty to life for four counts of rape and two counts of second degree murder. His teeth remind me of those that vampires have, sharp canines and all. He has yellow eyes, and rather than a nose, his nostrils are formed by two narrow slits on his face. He is one of the most widely feared inmates in Main Unit. Contrary to what you might think, he is actually an Other; even though the Demons would never admit it, I think they're just as scared of him as everyone else. He is wearing black cargo pants, black lace-up boots, and a black muscle shirt.

"The word's out that you're on your own, slayer," Zolanok says, grinning.

"What's it to you, _demon_?" I snap at him.

"You've got a lot of enemies in here, slayer."

"And I suppose you're one of them? Go right ahead, big boy, take a shot, right here." I take a defensive stance, even though I know he won't do anything right now, since we're in full view of the hacks.

"On the contrary, slayer: I'd like to offer you protection."

I relax my stance, surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Protection, slayer. In exchange for…favors."

I realize what Zolanok's saying, and anger wells up. It takes all the willpower I have not to lash out at him. Before you wonder why I would pull my punches in this case, it's not because I'm afraid the hacks would see, but rather because I'm afraid of what Zolanok would do. There have been many inmates in here who have tried to go up against him; all of them have wound up either dead or in the hospital, while Zolanok barely got a scratch. It's a wonder he hasn't been moved to Solitary Confinement.

"Fuck. You." I am so furious at his offer that I can barely get the words out.

The demon shrugs. "Have it your way, slayer. But my offer still stands, if you change your mind. Oh, and just in case you're worried about what the 'favors' would do to you physically, I assure you that my anatomy and yours are quite compatible."

--

Later, I'm in the shower room, standing under one of the shower heads as hot water pours over my bare skin. I've taken off the eye patch, and now carefully apply soap around my blinded eye, taking care not to get any in it; I still can't completely close the eye, hence the main reason for the eye patch, to avoid infection. After I finish putting the soap on, I carefully rinse it off.

"Hello, Ashley." I freeze at these words that come from behind me. I recognize the voice; it's the redhead.

I turn slowly to look at her. "The hell you want, Mallory?" She clearly isn't here to shower; she's still fully clothed.

She smiles and steps forward. "Quite a thing to live in fear, isn't it? Quite a thing to be alone."

I decide at this moment that it's time to take some revenge for what she did to me. "Yeah, well, that's not going to stop me from doing THIS!" I lunge and swing at her.

Due to my lack of depth perception, I've underestimated the distance between me and her. She backs up a step, and the punch falls short. I have to put all my weight on my injured right leg to keep from stumbling; I put out my arms to steady myself, leaving myself vulnerable.

It's Mallory's turn. She raises her leg and kicks me in the stomach. I fly into the far wall, causing cracks to appear in it. I fall to the wet floor, clutching my stomach in pain, as she approaches me.

Kneeling next to me, she grabs me by the throat with her left hand and lifts me up so that we are looking each other in the face. I see her raise her right fist, and I close my good eye in anticipation.

"Mallory, no!" I am saved from the impending blow at the last moment by the voice of Marla Goetz, who has now entered the shower room herself. I open my eye to look at her.

"Don't do it, Mallory!" As Marla says this, I begin to feel humiliated at having to be rescued by one of my enemies.

"I don't…need…your help…dyke!" I manage to choke out, trying to pry Mallory's fingers off my throat.

"Shut the fuck up! This isn't about you!" Marla hisses in reply. She looks at Mallory. "C'mon, Mall, you don't want to go back to the hole, do you? Or even Solitary?"

After a moment, the bitch finally lets go. As my head hits the wet floor, I sputter and cough, relieved to be able to breathe freely again. I open my eyes to see the two of them leaving the shower room.

I have survived the encounter without sustaining serious injuries, but it has really shaken me up. If Mallory can hold her own against me by herself, then what can everyone else do? I realize that my injuries, compounded with the fact that I never got any real form of exercise while I lay in that hospital bed for several weeks, have left me in a greatly weakened state. I realize that not only am I alone, but I am also helpless.

--

I arrive at the prison psychiatrist's office and go in without even knocking. Dr. Marcus looks up at me, surprised.

"Miss Patrickson?" She looks over her list. "I don't believe I recall scheduling an appointment with you."

"That's because you didn't. Listen, this will only take a minute. I just need you answer one question for me."

Dr. Marcus sighs; she can probably tell that I'm desperate. "Have a seat, Miss Patrickson."

As I sit down, I ask, "Dr. Marcus, is it acceptable to do whatever it takes to survive?"

She looks away momentarily as she ponders the question. "I guess it depends on how much harm to other people it would require."

"What if the harm was only to me?" I ask.

"Well, then, if you're willing to endure it, then I suppose that yes, it would be acceptable to do whatever you had to do in order to survive. What exactly is going on, Miss—"

"Thanks." I get up to leave.

"Wait!" she protests. "Is there something I can do—"

"You already did," I reply as I walk out the door. "You answered my question." I do not let her see me wipe away the tears that have begun forming in my good eye.

--

Zolanok's cell has only one bed in it, and that bed had to be special-ordered; he is too large for a bunk bed. He is currently looking over an issue of _Playboy_. He evidently is attracted to human females as much as or more so than demon ones.

He looks at me when he hears his cell door open. Setting down the magazine, he sits up, but does not say anything.

I, on the other hand, say four words: "I accept your offer."

--

_A/N: Sorry it's been a while since my last update; work and another fanfic have been distracting me. I thought it would be an interesting turn for the predator to become the prey, as well as show that even the most monstrous individuals can have their moments of vulnerability and humanity, hence the events of this chapter. I hope you'll keep reading, and if you do, please leave feedback. I have some interesting character arcs planned._


	7. Shakedown

"Fools! Bloody fools!"

Dr. Marcus is startled by the red-faced warden's words as he barges into her office.

"I take it the meeting with the Board didn't go so well?" she asks, putting on her glasses.

"You don't know the half of it! I swear, I would love nothing better than to strangle Henry Alldridge!" shouts Warden Griffin.

"Easy, warden, you wouldn't want to experience how the other half lives. So what did the chairman say that's got your feathers ruffled so much?"

Griffin sits down in front of the desk. "I got up there in front of the board and I tell him about the problems we're having here. I tell him how we're getting close to being at full capacity and how I've had to lean on the parole board to let inmates out early just to make sure there's a few vacancies left for the next group that comes in. I tell him how if the inmate population gets much higher, I'll practically have to starting installing bunk beds in the Hole."

"What did he say?"

"The bloody bastard asks me—in a rather patronizing tone, I might add—what my ideas are for fixing the problem. I tell him that having an extra unit added to the prison wouldn't be a bad idea. He gives me this lecture about how money is really tight and how I'll probably just have to make do with what I have for now. So then I tell him that perhaps we wouldn't be having crowding problems if the region's courts—whose presiding judges the Board has a hand in appointing, I might add—would find another way to deal with nonviolent first-time offenders besides just sending them to my prison."

"Well," replies Dr. Marcus, "something tells me he wasn't too open-minded about that."

"Right you are, Doctor," says Griffin. "Rather than address what I actually said, however, he just tells me that I should, in his words, stop coddling the criminals and do my job. Finally, he said that there were 'other ways' of dealing with the population problem."

"What did he mean by that?" asks Dr. Marcus.

Griffin doesn't elaborate; instead he just looks at the psychiatrist. She figures it out a moment later.

"You don't mean…" begins Dr. Marcus. Griffin nods his head in confirmation.

"I don't believe this," says Dr. Marcus, shocked. "They're actually considering reinstating the death penalty?" Griffin nods again.

"Forgive me, warden, but wasn't the whole point of this miniature justice system to make it to where we _wouldn't_ have to use the sword to deal with the problems presented by the supernatural world?"

Griffin runs his hands over his face and hair, obviously frustrated. "Yes, it was, and I find this whole situation to be an utter disgrace to my father's memory! As you know, he was the brains behind the project. However, the only way he could get the Watcher's Council to fund it was by agreeing to allow the death penalty to be used for harsher crimes, even though he was completely against it. He spent the next three decades trying to get rid of capital punishment before he finally managed to get some more sympathetic people on the board who voted in his favor. For once, I'm actually glad he's dead; I would not have him see everything he fought for get destroyed like it is now!"

"So what happens now?" asks Dr. Marcus, leaning back in her chair.

"Well, the Board is going to 'consider' the proposals I submitted to them; so for now, we just wait to hear back from them."

"Are you afraid of what they're going to say?"

Griffin sighs. "I don't know."

--

The next day, two significant events happen within a few hours of each other; though it is not known at the time, both will have long-lasting effects on the prison and its residents.

The first event happens that morning in the cafeteria. It begins when D'Zandus sees Ashley Patrickson from across the room. Walking over, he begins to taunt and threaten her. A few seconds later, he is sent flying halfway across the room by Zolanok's fist. The large, reddish-brown demon is immediately taken to the Hole by the COs who saw him hit the Demon leader.

D'Zandus' is not injured, other than in his pride. He and most of the other inmates now know that Ashley is under Zolanok's protection.

To everyone's surprise, Zolanok is released from the Hole less than two hours later.

The second event happens that afternoon in Main Unit, when the COs declare a shakedown. As with all shakedowns, the inmates are ordered out of their cells while the COs search the cells. Much contraband is confiscated, and several inmates end up going to the Hole for possession of more serious contraband such as weapons, books of dark magic, and tablets of a Japanese drug known as Akira that contains several magic ingredients. The drug—which, unbeknownst to the prison staff, is being sold by the Witch gang—has become immensely popular over the past few weeks.

Not surprisingly, the inmates are furious over the unexpected shakedown. Tensions rise.

--

"Come in, Toshiro." Shelley Mendez gestures the Japanese warlock over to her cell.

"By the way, Toshiro, before you tell me what you wanted to tell me, I thought I'd better tell you something first: Joseph and I have come to a decision. As you know, two of our dealers got thrown in the Hole two days ago after the shakedown, and because of that, the prison staff are watching us very closely right now."

"So what's your decision?" asks Toshiro.

"We need you," says Shelley, "to tell your friend, the one who's been providing us with the supplies of Akira, that we can't take his shipments for a while, at least not until things cool off a bit."

Toshiro's face drops. "He will not be happy to hear that."

"I know," replies the witch. "But tell him not to worry; it will be a few weeks at most."

The warlock nods. "I have already alerted him to the possibility."

"Good. So what did you want to tell me?"

"Actually, it has to do with the shakedown. I found out who's responsible for it."

"Who?"

Toshiro looks behind him, then leans forward and says the name quietly: "Zolanok."

Shelley looks at the warlock in shock. "Zolanok's a snitch? Are you sure?"

"Think about it, Shelley; the prison's behavior record on him has got to be longer than my arm, and yet he's miraculously avoided being put in Solitary. Two days ago, he gets taken away to the Hole yet again, this time for punching D'Zandus. Two hours later, he's back in Main Unit again. There's no way he could have pulled that off without naming names to the warden. The shakedown was only an excuse to get hold of the people he gave up to the warden, including two of our own! And before you ask me, I bribed one of the hacks, and he confirmed my theory."

Shelley replies, "Well, I guess we can't let him get away with that, now can we?" She sighs. "Where is he right now?"

"At his job in the kitchen. He's the one who stays behind after lunch to clean up."

Shelley looks at her watch. It is early afternoon.

"He will be alone in there right now," says the witch. "Let's go take care of our problem."

Toshiro blinks in surprise. "Now? Shouldn't we wait for your husband?"

"He's working his shift in the medical unit; don't worry, our magic will be more than enough against Zolanok's muscle."

--

The last thing Joseph Mendez was wanting or expecting to see while working his shift in the medical ward is the sight of both his wife and his subordinate being wheeled in on stretchers.

"What the hell happened? Where are you taking my wife?!" he shouts as Shelley is wheeled into a private examination room. The COs standing outside the door to the room push him away to prevent him from coming in.

"Hey! That's my wife in there! Assholes!" he screams. He runs over to Toshiro's gurney as it is being wheeled by two orderlies. The injured warlock has a black eye, and more than one tooth has been knocked out of his mouth. His leg is twisted at an angle that it shouldn't be.

"Toshiro! What happened? Who did this to you?" he says, grabbing Toshiro's hand to prevent him from slipping back into unconsciousness.

"Zolanok…" mumbles Toshiro. "His species…invulnerable to magic…"

"What did he do to Shelley? Toshiro!"

"Don't know…didn't see…knocked out cold…"

Joseph heads back toward the examination room where Shelley is and paces outside the door; the COs watch him warily. Finally, the doctor comes out. Joseph rushes up to him.

"Is she alright? Is Shelley alright? Tell me!"

"Joseph, your wife has suffered massive bruising to the face and a broken arm, but should make a full recovery." The doctors speaks with a certain amount of unease.

Joseph immediately detects that all is not right. "There's something you're not telling me."

"Joseph…"

"Don't bullshit me, doc! I'm her husband and I deserve to know."

The doctor turns and tells the guards to go across the room for a moment; they comply. Then he turns back to Joseph.

"Joseph," the doctor begins in a quiet voice. "Whoever did this to Shelley didn't just hit her. I examined her…she…"

"She was raped," finishes Joseph. He doesn't say it as a question. The doctor nods grimly.

To the doctor's horror, Joseph's eyes turn jet black, and veins appear on his face. The doctor looks at the COs, who catch his worried gaze from across the room and begin approaching, batons drawn.

"No," says Joseph, putting out his arm toward the guards. "I'm good. I'm cool." His eyes and face return to normal as he calms down.

The doctor exhales in relief. "Look, Joseph," he says, "there's nothing you can do for her right now; we need to do some more tests on her first. Why don't you take the rest of your shift off and come back in a couple hours? I promise I'll let you see her then."

A pause follows before Joseph finally nods. Then he turns and walks out of the medical unit as thoughts of vengeance begin to fill his mind.

--

_A/N: Like the fourth chapter, this was mostly for transitional purposes and to build up to upcoming events. Also, I thought it might be interesting to depict some of the political crap that the warden has to deal with._

_Love it, hate it, or something in between, but either way, leave feedback._


	8. Enter the Demons

"Boss, you need to see this." D'Zandus, who has been watching the large television set in Main Unit, turns in the direction of the voice and pulls off his headphones, finding one of his right-hand men, a short and stocky gray demon named Phillip, standing there.

D'Zandus stands up and walks, with Phillip in tow, to his cell, which is located on the lower level of the unit. When he reaches the cell, he sees that his other right-hand man Mnemos is already waiting there with a small box sitting next to him on the lower bunk.

Mnemos is handsome, even by human standards, assuming the human in question doesn't mind turquoise-colored skin and seaweed green hair. The strangest thing about his physical appearance, however, is his eyes. The whites (if you can call them that), irises, and pupils are black, white, and black, respectively. Other than these differences, however, his appearance is mostly human. He is tall and thin, in contrast to Phillip.

"What's in the box?" asks D'Zandus. Without a word, Mnemos calmly picks up the box, opens it, and holds it out in front of him to show the contents to his superior. It turns out to contain a pile of tablets. The demon leader immediately recognizes that they're Akira pills, the mystical drug that has been making the Wiccans rather wealthy as of late.

D'Zandus looks at the other two demons. "This is worth a small fortune. Where did you get it?"

"Joseph Mendez," replies Phillip. He is the talkative half of D'Zandus' lieutenants.

The black and blue demon looks at the gray demon in disbelief. "You stole these from the Witches' leader?"

"That's the thing, boss, we didn't have to. He came here personally and handed it to us."

D'Zandus does not even have to ask why Mendez would do such. "He wants us to kill Zolanok. To avenge the rape of his wife."

Phillip nods. "He must figure you'd want to kill Zolanok as well, especially after what happened in the cafeteria last week."

The leader nods. "He's right; I do want to kill that red son of a bitch. Thing is, though, I'm rather hesitant to do it."

"Because the guards are watching us closely for now?"

"More because of what he's doing to the Patrickson girl. After that bitch murdered D'Randorus—my nephew—I wanted her to suffer so much for it, and now she is. Still though, that Akira is really tempting."

"Then screw Mendez," replies Phillip. "Let's just keep the Akira and not do what he asked."

A moment's pause.

"Can I make a suggestion?" asks Mnemos quietly.

"Of course." D'Zandus knows that the turquoise demon never opens his mouth unless he really has something to say; it's for that reason he likes him a lot more than Phillip.

"Sir, we're already on bad terms with the Slayers and even worse terms with the hacks. I don't think it would be wise to make the Wiccans angry as well right now. I'm not saying that we should kill Zolanok, but if we don't, then we should give the Akira back."

"Give it back?" replies Phillip in disbelief. "Why the fuck would we…" D'Zandus stops listening. He is looking out of the cell toward a table on the main floor where Joseph and Shelley Mendez are currently sitting.

In the days since the witch was raped, her husband has tended to her every need, even to the point of having other members of his gang run things for a while. Shelley has mostly been quiet, almost catatonic, although she has been seen crying numerous times. D'Zandus knows that unless she gets better soon, the warden will probably eventually have her taken out of Main Unit and placed in the Psychiatric Unit, which is mostly run by Dr. Marcus. As the Demon leader watches them, his face softens.

"Enough, Phillip," says D'Zandus, interrupting the gray demon's rant. "I've made my decision."

--

The door to the janitor's closet is flung open, and the blonde, in turn, is flung into the small space by Phillip. The two demons both enter the closet, and Mnemos closes the door behind them.

Ashley Patrickson hasn't looked this bad since her attack by Mallory. Her hair hangs in greasy strands around her face, one lock dangling over her eye patch. Her face has numerous bruises on it, none of which were inflicted by the two demons here with her now; Zolanok is a rather violent lover.

She looks at both of the demons, and then sighs. "Alright, I confess: I killed D'Randorus. I killed your boss' nephew."

"We know," replies Phillip menacingly. Mnemos stands in the corner watching, his arms crossed.

"So what're you waitin' for, then? Go ahead, kill me! It's what ya'll came here to do, ain't it? It'll be nothin' compared to what I've been going through for the past few weeks."

"Much as I'd like to say otherwise, we're not here to kill you, slayer," says Phillip. "In fact, today's your lucky day."

"Huh?"

"The boss wants Zolanok…out of the way. I'm sure you can guess why, you were there in the cafeteria after all. Problem is, we're being watched rather closely by the hacks right now, so it's a little difficult for us to pull it off. So the boss is willing to make a deal: he'll call it even if you take care of Zolanok."

"How do I know he won't just kill me anyways?"

Mnemos speaks for the first time. "You don't. But you yourself said it a minute ago: death would be nothing compared to what Zolanok has been doing to you. So what do you really have to lose?"

A moment goes by before Ashley finally nods her head.

"Good," says Phillip. "Then we have a deal." He opens the door and walks out, followed by Mnemos.

As the two walk back to their unit, the gray demon asks, "You think the boss really intends to just let her live?"

The turquoise demon nods. "Of course, at least until she does something else that gives him an excuse to kill her. When have you ever known him to make a promise he didn't intend to keep?"

--

Ashley grits her teeth as she waits for Zolanok to finish. She finally is able to relax after he finishes thrusting inside her and removes himself. Her hair is divided into two braids, and she is wearing a white, button-up shirt and a plaid skirt which she now tugs back down to cover herself. The Catholic schoolgirl outfit was the costume that the large red demon chose for tonight.

The blond slayer touches her face, and winces. The demon has left his fair share of fresh bruises tonight. Well, hopefully it won't be long before he will never be able to leave another.

"Listen, Zolanok, I was wondering…nah, forget it," she says, acting scared and hesitant. She pulls her jeans up underneath her skirt before removing it, then changes out of the shirt and back into her wife beater.

"What is it? Tell me," he replies roughly.

"Umm, okay…have you ever heard of autoerotic asphyxia?"

--

Two days later, Zolanok is found hanging in the storage closet. No trace of sedatives or other drugs is found in his body, and no evidence of any magic having been used is found, either. There are no signs of a violent struggle. It does not take the authorities long to rule it a suicide.

--

"How on earth did she pull it off?" asks a bewildered Phillip. "How did she manage to kill him without him killing her first, and yet also completely cover her tracks?"

The three demons are sitting at a table, staring at Ashley as she sits alone at another table across the floor. D'Zandus turns to Mnemos and asks, "Can you read her memory? Maybe you can provide some answers for our gray friend here."

Mnemos puts out his arm in Ashley's direction, palm facing outward, and closes his eyes. A moment later he opens them again.

"I could only catch a few quick images," he says. "But they were enough." He tells them what he saw.

D'Zandus turns away from the turquoise demon and looks at Ashley again. "I gotta give it to her, that's kinda clever."

--

_A/N: Sorry for the delay; work's kept me rather busy lately. Anyway, hoped you enjoyed my return to this fic, especially since I made the Demons a bigger part of it now. _

_I'll give you a teaser for upcoming chapters: I"m planning on introducing a new inmate who is also a Watcher._

_As always, leave feedback._


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